From the Flower
by misted-oracle
Summary: Neville's accident in the greenhouse leads to much more. Slash: NevilleHagrid


**Title:** From the Flower

**Rating:** PG

**Pairing:** Neville/Hagrid

**Summery:** Neville's little accident leads to something more.

** Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter, because if I did book five would have ended very differently, nor am I making any money off my writings.

* * *

**From the Flower**  
  
"I'll be back in a bit, Neville. The meeting shouldn't last too long," Professor Sprout told him before leaving the greenhouse, "you can just finishing feeding the fluxweed. And the hellebore needs to be picked sometime today, you can get a start on that as well," washing her dirtied hands under the tap water, Sprout continued, "if you finish with that the geraniums need watering,"  
  
Neville nodded, looking up from the large pot he was crouched near, "See you in a bit, Professor," his attention was immediately drawn back to the plants.  
  
Neville worked on, planting and sprinkling feed into certain pots. He dug up quite a bit of the hellebore and replanted them into the fresher dirt, leaving a few plants for Sprout to take care of; Neville knew she didn't like him doing all the work, and he watered most of the garden as well.  
  
It had probably been a bit short of an hour, when Neville, finished all the work he'd been assigned, but not wanting to return to his sixth year dorms just yet, walked into the back part of the greenhouse.  
  
Some of the more unruly plants were housed there, and Neville was particularly interested in the breeds of hydrangea Professor Sprout was pruning. He'd only been allowed in the back a few select times, but it wasn't as if Neville didn't know what he was doing. He knew what plants to avoid, and in his mind he would be fine.  
  
Neville rummaged around; carefully avoiding what plants he knew to be poisonous or dangerous. Hanging from the ceiling were huge flowers with fluttering purple petals and shiny yellow centers. Vines hung on the walls, with small buds forming about them.  
  
Neville examined some of the more rare and unusual specimens, stopping to observe some of them more closely.  
  
He checked over the aconite, having never seen it besides when it was chopped and shredded in potion's class, and watched as the undiluted gillyweed plant squirmed and rolled in it's pot. He stooped and looked around a little more at some of the plants on the floor, prodding the ones that he knew to be safe.  
  
He headed for the exit, deciding to go and finish some of the watering in the normal garden, before something caught his eye.  
  
It was a beautiful tall flower, standing singularly in a pot; it's long steam holding up heavy blue petals that surrounded a silky center. Neville had never seen a plant like this, or even read about one. He approached it, bending over to get a closer look.  
  
The flower did nothing, and made no move to indicate it was nothing more than a common, muggle plant. A thought nagged Neville in the back of his mind, that the flower had to have something dangerous about it, if it were being stored in the back, but he brushed that thought away as he examined it closer.  
  
He reached out a tentative hand to brush the sleek petal, but immediately tried to recoil as the petal closed in over his hand in a tight grasp. Neville hauled his hand back, but the flower had too strong a hold on him and held tight.  
  
Panicked, Neville jerked backwards, trying to swing his hand away. The plant held tighter and Neville began to feel little needles press into his flesh. They were getting harder and digging in further, like sharp teeth biting him.  
  
Holding back a cry of pain, Neville swung his free hand into his pocket to grab his wand. He shot a curse at the pot, sending it flying backwards into the wall. The flower's grip loosened as it went flying with it's container.  
  
Neville stood up hastily, looking down in horror at his hand. The puncture wounds were deep, as little rivets of blood dripped down his hand and onto the floor.  
  
Bundling up his robe, so it caught the trickling blood, Neville left the greenhouse in a hurry, heading off to the hospital wing. He had no idea whether that plant had been poisonous or not, and he had to go to see Pomfrey immediately.  
  
He dashed up from the greenhouse, running as fast as he could manage up towards the castle.  
  
"Wha' yeh hurryin' about, Neville?" a deep voice spoke. Neville turned around, still grasping his hand in his robes, to see Hagrid emerging from the borders of the forest, a pack swung over his shoulder.  
  
"I got bitten. I have to see Pomfrey," Neville answered distractedly.  
  
"Well, she ain't in the 'ospital wing righ' now. She's in the staff meetin'," Hagrid told him, "but I can help yeh, if yeh want,"  
  
Neville raised a skeptical eyebrow, "I really ought to find Pomfrey, I think the plant might have been poisonous,"  
  
"Wha' plant bit yeh?" Hagrid swung the heavy pack onto the ground and looked over Neville, unfolding the robe from around his hand, which was now covered in blood, as was his stained robe.  
  
"This blue flower in the back of greenhouse six,"  
  
"Ah, tha' one ain't poisonous, I fetched it myself," Hagrid's warm, callous hands thumbed over the sensitive skin, causing Neville to gasp "come on, Neville, I'll wrap yer hand up,"  
  
Hagrid guided the boy across the field and over to his small hut, opening the door for him and giving him a gentle pat on the back as he entered. Neville still cradled his hand against his chest as he took a seat in the massive chair, curling up.  
  
"I'll just fetch yeh some bandages," Hagrid rummaged around in the cabinet that hung over the stove, taking some gauze, bandages and a clear bottle out before he grabbed a washcloth, thoroughly wetting it.  
  
"Thanks, Hagrid," Neville sighed, leaning his head back against the soft fabric, closing his eyes.  
  
"Don' yeh worry about it," Hagrid sat down next to Neville and gingerly picked up his bloody hand, slowly running a wet cloth over the delicate flesh, eliciting a small whimper from the younger boy.  
  
Hagrid wiped away the blood, blotting the wounds, "Yeh be careful next time yeh're workin' in the greenhouse. It could have been a lo' worse,"  
  
Neville mutely nodded, squeezing his eyes tightly together, "This'll sting a mite," he warned gently, as he popped the bottle open and wetted the clean side of the cloth, "better make sure you don' get infected,"  
  
Neville let out a high strung whine as Hagrid wiped down his hand, slowly cleaning the cuts, "Just hold tight, Neville, it won' sting ter bad in a few more minutes," Neville whimpered again and Hagrid leaned forward, brushing a soft kiss to his forehead, his beard tickling the side of Neville's cheek, "there now, that's a mite better now, ain't it?"  
  
Neville felt a strong blush cover his cheeks as Hagrid continued cleaning his cuts. The bandages were gently wrapped around Neville's hand, tied snuggly at his palm.  
  
"Thanks, Hagrid," Neville mumbled, looking down.  
  
"Yer hand feelin better now?" Hagrid asked cheerfully. Neville nodded, the flush still predominant across his cheeks, "well yeh scamper off, I'm sure Sprout's looking fer yeh by now," Neville nodded and turned to leave, but looked back before he did.  
  
"Thanks again," he said quietly. Hagrid only smiled at him as Neville gave him a small peck on the cheek, before running from the hut.

Fin.


End file.
